First Bites

by Darren Shan

  When Rhamus left the stage, I thought nobody could top such an act.

  I was wrong!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A COUPLE OF PEOPLE in the blue-hooded robes came around after Rhamus Twobellies, selling gifts. There was some really cool stuff, like chocolate models of the nuts and bolts that Rhamus ate, and rubber dolls of Alexander Ribs that you could bend and stretch. And there were clippings of the wolf-man’s hair. I bought some of that: it was tough and wiry, sharp as a knife.

  “There will be more novelties later,” Mr. Tall announced from the stage, “so don’t spend all your money right away.”

  “How much is the glass statue?” Steve asked. It was the same kind that Rhamus Twobellies had eaten. The person in the blue hood didn’t say anything, but stuck out a sign with the price on it. “I can’t read,” Steve said. “Will you tell me how much it costs?”

  I stared at Steve and wondered why he was lying. The person in the hood still didn’t speak. This time he (or she) shook his head quickly and moved on before Steve could ask anything else.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  Steve shrugged. “I wanted to hear it speak,” he said, “to see if it was human or not.”

  “Of course it’s human,” I said. “What else could it be?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s why I was asking. Don’t you think it’s strange that they keep their faces covered all the time?”

  “Maybe they’re shy,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t believe that.

  When the people selling the gifts were finished, the next freak came on. It was the bearded lady, and at first I thought it was meant to be a joke, because she didn’t have a beard!

  Mr. Tall stood behind her and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a very special act. Truska here is new to our family. She is one of the most incredible performers I have ever seen, with a truly unique talent.”

  Mr. Tall walked off. Truska was very beautiful, dressed in flowing red robes that had many slashes and gaps. Lots of the men in the theater began to cough and shift around in their seats.

  Truska stepped closer to the edge of the stage, so we could see her better, then said something that sounded like a seal barking. She put her hands on her face, one at either side, and stroked the skin gently. Then she held her nose shut with two fingers and tickled her chin with her other hand.

  An extraordinary thing happened: she began to grow a beard! Hairs crept out, first on her chin, then her upper lip, then the sides of her face, finally all over. It was long and blonde and straight.

  It grew about four or five inches, then stopped. She took her fingers away from her nose and stepped down into the crowd, where she walked around and let people pull on the beard and stroke it.

  The beard continued growing as she walked, until finally it reached down to her feet! When she arrived at the rear of the theater, she turned and walked back to the stage. Even though there was no breeze, her hair blew about wildly, tickling people’s faces as she passed.

  When she was back on the stage, Mr. Tall asked if anybody had a pair of scissors. Lots of women did. Mr. Tall invited a few up.

  “The Cirque Du Freak will give one solid bar of gold to anyone who can slice off Truska’s beard,” he said, and held up a small yellow piece of metal to show he wasn’t joking.

  That got a lot of people excited and for ten minutes nearly everybody in the theater tried cutting off her beard. But they couldn’t! Nothing could cut through the bearded lady’s hair, not even a pair of garden shears that Mr. Tall handed out. The funny thing was, it still felt soft, just like ordinary hair!

  When everyone had admitted defeat, Mr. Tall emptied the stage and Truska stood in the middle again. She stroked her cheeks as before and held her nose, but this time the beard grew back in! It took about two minutes for the hairs to disappear back inside, and then she looked exactly as she had when she first came out. She left to huge applause and the next act came out almost directly after.

  His name was Hans Hands. He began by telling us about his father, who’d been born without legs. Hans’s father learned to get around on his hands just as well as other people could on their feet, and had taught his children his secrets.

  Hans then sat down, pulled up his legs, and wrapped his feet around his neck. He stood on his hands, walked up and down the stage, then hopped off and challenged four men—picked at random—to a race. They could race on their feet; he’d race on his hands. He promised a bar of gold to anyone who could beat him.

  They used the aisles of the theater as a racetrack, and despite his disadvantage, Hans beat the four men easily. He claimed he could sprint a hundred yards in eight seconds on his hands, and nobody in the theater doubted him. Afterward he performed some impressive gymnastic feats, proving that a person could manage just as well without legs as with them. His act wasn’t especially exciting but it was enjoyable.

  There was a short pause after Hans had left, then Mr. Tall came out. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “our next act is another unique and perplexing one. It can also be quite dangerous, so I ask that you make no noise and do not clap until you are told it is safe.”

  The whole place went quiet. After what had happened with the wolf-man earlier, nobody needed to be told twice!

  When it was quiet enough, Mr. Tall walked off the stage. He shouted out the name of the next freak as he went, but it was a soft shout: “Mr. Crepsley and Madam Octa!”

  The lights went down low and a creepy-looking man walked onto the stage. He was tall and thin, with very white skin and only a small crop of orange hair on the top of his head. He had a large scar running down his left cheek. It reached to his lips and made it look like his mouth was stretching up the side of his face.

  He was dressed in dark-red clothes and carried a small wooden cage, which he put on a table. When he was set, he turned and faced us. He bowed and smiled. He looked even scarier when he smiled, like a crazy clown in a horror movie I once saw! Then he started to explain about the act.

  I missed the first part of his speech because I wasn’t looking at the stage. I was watching Steve. You see, when Mr. Crepsley walked out, there had been total silence, except for one person who had gasped loudly.

  Steve.

  I stared curiously at my friend. He was almost as white as Mr. Crepsley and was shaking all over. He’d even dropped the rubber model of Alexander Ribs that he’d bought.

  His eyes were fixed on Mr. Crepsley, as though glued to him, and as I watched him watch the freak, the thought that crossed my mind was: “He looks like he’s seen a ghost!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “IT IS NOT TRUE that all tarantulas are poisonous,” Mr. Crepsley said. He had a deep voice. I managed to tear my eyes away from Steve and trained them on the stage. “Most are as harmless as the spiders you find anywhere in the world. And those which are poisonous normally only have enough poison in them to kill very small creatures.

  “But some are deadly!” he went on. “Some can kill a man with one bite. They are rare, and only found in extremely remote areas, but they do exist.

  “I have one such spider,” he said and opened the door of the cage. For a few seconds nothing happened, but then the largest spider I had ever seen crawled out. It was green and purple and red, with long hairy legs and a big fat body. I wasn’t afraid of spiders, but this one looked terrifying.

  The spider walked forward slowly. Then its legs bent and it lowered its body, as though waiting for a fly.

  “Madam Octa has been with me for several years,” Mr. Crepsley said. “She lives far longer than ordinary spiders. The monk who sold her to me said some of her kind live to be twenty or thirty years old. She is an incredible creature, both poisonous and intelligent.”

  While he was speaking, one of the blue-hooded people led a goat onto the stage. It was making a frightened bleating noise and kept trying to run. The hooded person tied it to the table and left.

&n
bsp; The spider began moving when it saw and heard the goat. It crept to the edge of the table, where it stopped, as if awaiting an order. Mr. Crepsley produced a shiny tin whistle—he called it a flute—from his pants pocket and blew a few short notes. Madam Octa immediately leaped through the air and landed on the goat’s neck.

  The goat gave a leap when the spider landed, and began bleating loudly. Madam Octa took no notice, hung on, and moved a few inches closer to the head. When she was ready, she bared her fangs and sunk them deep into the goat’s neck!

  The goat froze and its eyes went wide. It stopped bleating and, a few seconds later, toppled over. I thought it was dead, but then realized it was still breathing.

  “This flute is how I control Madam Octa,” Mr. Crepsley said, and I looked away from the fallen goat. He waved the flute slowly above his head. “Though we have been together such a long time, she is not a pet, and would surely kill me if I ever lost it.

  “The goat is paralyzed,” he said. “I have trained Madam Octa not to kill outright with her first bite. The goat would die in the end, if we left it—there is no cure for Madam Octa’s bite—but we shall finish it quickly.” He blew on the flute and Madam Octa moved up the goat’s neck until she was standing on its ear. She bared her fangs again and bit. The goat shivered, then went totally still.

  It was dead.

  Madam Octa dropped from the goat and crawled toward the front of the stage. The people in the front rows became very alarmed and some jumped to their feet. But they froze at a short command from Mr. Crepsley.

  “’Do not move!” he hissed. “Remember your earlier warning: a sudden noise could mean death!”

  Madam Octa stopped at the edge of the stage, then stood on her two back legs, just like a dog! Mr. Crepsley blew softly on his flute and she began walking backward, still on two feet. When she reached the nearest leg of the table, she turned and climbed up.

  “You will be safe now,” Mr. Crepsley said, and the people in the front rows sat down again, as slowly and quietly as they could. “But please,” he added, “do not make any loud noises, because if you do, she might come after me.”

  I don’t know if Mr. Crepsley was really scared, or if it was part of the act, but he looked frightened. He wiped the sleeve of his right arm over his forehead, then placed the flute back in his mouth and whistled a strange little tune.

  Madam Octa cocked her head, then appeared to nod. She crawled across the table until she was in front of Mr. Crepsley. He lowered his right hand, and she crept up his arm. The thought of those long hairy legs creeping along his flesh made me sweat all over. And I liked spiders! People who were afraid of them must have been nervously chewing the insides of their cheeks to pieces.

  When she got to the top of his arm, she scuttled along his shoulder, up his neck, over his ear, and didn’t stop until she reached the top of his head, where she lowered her body. She looked like a funny kind of a hat.

  After a while, Mr. Crepsley began playing the flute again. Madam Octa slid down the other side of his face, along the scar, and walked around until she was standing upside down on his chin. Then she spun a string of web and dropped down on it.

  She was hanging about three inches below his chin now, and slowly began rocking from side to side. Soon she was swinging about level with his ears. Her legs were tucked in, and from where I was sitting she looked like a ball of wool.

  Then, as she made an upward swing, Mr. Crepsley threw his head back and she went flying straight up into the air. The thread snapped and she tumbled around and around. I watched her go up, then come down. I thought she’d land on the floor or the table, but she didn’t. Instead, she landed in Mr. Crepsley’s mouth!

  I nearly got sick when I thought of Madam Octa sliding down his throat and into his belly. I was sure she’d bite him and kill him. But the spider was a lot smarter than I knew. As she was falling, she’d stuck her legs out and they had caught on his lips.

  He brought his head forward, so we could see his face. His mouth was wide open and Madam Octa was hanging between his lips. Her body throbbed in and out of his mouth and she looked like a balloon that he was blowing up and letting the air out of.

  I wondered where the flute was and how he was going to control the spider now. Then Mr. Tall appeared with another flute. He couldn’t play as well as Mr. Crepsley, but he was good enough to make Madam Octa take notice. She listened, then moved from one side of Mr. Crepsley’s mouth to the other.

  I didn’t know what she was doing at first, so I craned my neck to see. When I saw the bits of white on Mr. Crepsley’s lips I understood: she was spinning a web!

  When she was finished, she lowered herself from his chin, like she had before. There was a large web spun across Mr. Crepsley’s mouth. He began chewing and licking the web! He ate the whole thing, then rubbed his belly (being careful not to hit Madam Octa) and said, “Delicious. Nothing tastier than fresh spiderwebs. They are a treat where I come from.”

  He made Madam Octa push a ball across the table, then got her to balance on top of it. He set up small pieces of gym gear, tiny weights and ropes and rings, and put her through her paces. She was able to do all the things a human could, like lift weights above her head and climb ropes and pull herself up on the rings.

  Then he brought out a tiny dinner set. There were mini plates and knives and forks and teeny-weeny glasses. The plates were filled with dead flies and other small insects. I don’t know what was in the glasses.

  Madam Octa ate that dinner as neatly as you please. She was able to pick up the knives and forks, four at a time, and feed herself. There was even a fake saltshaker that she sprinkled over one of the dishes!

  It was around the time she was drinking from the glass that I decided Madam Octa was the world’s most amazing pet. I would have given everything I owned for her. I knew it could never be—Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me keep her even if I could buy her—but that didn’t stop me from wishing.

  When the act was over, Mr. Crepsley put the spider back in her cage and bowed low while everybody clapped. I heard a lot of people saying it wasn’t fair to have killed the poor goat, but it had been thrilling.

  I turned to Steve to tell him how great I thought the spider was, but he was watching Mr. Crepsley. He didn’t look scared anymore, but he didn’t look normal, either.

  “Steve, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Steve?”

  “Ssshhh!” he snapped, and wouldn’t say another word until Mr. Crepsley had left. He watched the odd-looking man walk back to the wings. Then he turned to me and gasped: “This is amazing!”

  “The spider?” I asked. “It was great. How do you think—”

  “I’m not talking about the spider!” he snapped. “Who cares about a silly old arachnid? I’m talking about Mr…. Crepsley.” He paused before saying the man’s name, as though he’d been about to call him something different.

  “Mr. Crepsley?” I asked, confused. “What was so great about him? All he did was play the flute.”

  “You don’t understand,” Steve said angrily. “You don’t know who he really is.”

  “And you do?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “as a matter of fact I do.” He rubbed his chin and started looking worried again. “I just hope he doesn’t know I know. If he does, we might never make it out of here alive….”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THERE WAS ANOTHER BREAKafter Mr. Crepsley and Madam Octa’s act. I tried getting Steve to tell me more about who the man was, but his lips were sealed. All he said was: “I have to think about this.” Then he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and thought hard.

  They were selling more cool stuff during the break: beards like the bearded lady’s, models of Hans Hands, and, best of all, rubber spiders that looked like Madam Octa. I bought two, one for me and one for Annie. They weren’t as good as the real thing but they’d have to do.

  They were also selling candy webs. I bought six of those, us
ing up the last of my money, and ate two while waiting for the next freak to come out. They tasted like cotton candy. I stuck the second one over my lips and licked at it the same way Mr. Crepsley had.

  The lights went down and everybody settled back into their seats. Gertha Teeth was next up. She was a big woman with thick legs, thick arms, a thick neck, and a thick head.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Gertha Teeth!” she said. She sounded strict. “I have the strongest teeth in the world! When I was a baby, my father put his fingers in my mouth, playing with me, and I bit two of them off!”

  A few people laughed, but she stopped them with a furious look. “I am not a comedian!” she snapped. “If you laugh at me again, I will come down and bite your nose off!” That sounded pretty funny, but nobody dared chuckle.

  She spoke very loudly. Every sentence was a shout and ended in an exclamation mark(!).

  “Dentists all over the world have been astounded by my teeth!” she said. “I have been examined in every major dental center, but nobody has been able to figure out why they are so tough! I have been offered huge amounts of money to become a guinea pig, but I like traveling and so I have refused!”

  She picked up four steel bars, each about ten inches long, but different widths. She asked for volunteers and four men went up onstage. She gave each of them a bar and said to try bending them. They did their best, but weren’t able. When they had failed, she took the thinnest bar, put it in her mouth, and bit clean through it!

  She handed the two halves back to one of the men. He stared at them in shock, then put one end in his own mouth and bit on it, to check that it was real steel. His howls when he almost cracked his teeth proved that it was.

  Gertha did the same to the second and third bars, each of which was thicker than the first. When it came to the fourth, the thickest of the bunch, she chewed it to pieces like a candy bar.